The Other
written Sep 5, 2010...Yesterday, a man riding his bicycle along the same path as my family crashed about 20 feet ahead of me and one of my children. There was no discernible reason for him to crash. He had just passed us befpre he veered unexplicably and hard to the left, hitting first the fence and then the ground. I told my daughter I was going to speed up to go check on him. I rode ahead, expecting to find bangs and bruises, maybe broken bones. When I got to where he was, I could see that he was immobile, but shaking, with blood on his leg and face. I dropped my bike and yelled, "Sir?" He did not answer me. He did not move. I went to where he was lying on the ground and tried again, "Sir?" Nothing. I went back to my bike to get my cell phone out of my bike bag. At this point, my daughter had caught up to me. My husband and our other two children were ahead of us before the crash. I yelled my husband's name, but could not see him. I knew that there was a road crossing ahead where they would be waiting for us. I told my child to go to her father and to tell him there had been an accident, that we would need help. After my daughter left, I went back to the man and tried to call 911. The man was still unconsciuos.
I am finally reading Last Night I Dreamed of Peace, The Diary of Dang Thuy Tram, translated by Andrew X. Pham. My dad sent this book to me a couple of years ago (2007). He bought it for himself at the same time. I tried to read it then, but couldn't. I tried again to read it the next year before I went with him to his reunion for his Naval unit, he served on a submarine for a short time during Vietnam. He had never been to one of the reunions before, although he had thought about it. When the reunion was in Niagara Falls he decided to combine visitng us with a drive to New York - I asked if I could go with him. The trip coincided with my 35th birthday. I didn't like the idea of my father having been in war - of anyone having been in war. I have a picture of him as a baby with my grandmother, and she looks so much like me. Since he gave me that picture, I can't help but see him as a mother's son. I wonder sometimes if I look to him like his mother did when he was young. If I do, I wonder if that makes him sad, if it makes him miss her.
I am finally reading Last Night I Dreamed of Peace, The Diary of Dang Thuy Tram, translated by Andrew X. Pham. My dad sent this book to me a couple of years ago (2007). He bought it for himself at the same time. I tried to read it then, but couldn't. I tried again to read it the next year before I went with him to his reunion for his Naval unit, he served on a submarine for a short time during Vietnam. He had never been to one of the reunions before, although he had thought about it. When the reunion was in Niagara Falls he decided to combine visitng us with a drive to New York - I asked if I could go with him. The trip coincided with my 35th birthday. I didn't like the idea of my father having been in war - of anyone having been in war. I have a picture of him as a baby with my grandmother, and she looks so much like me. Since he gave me that picture, I can't help but see him as a mother's son. I wonder sometimes if I look to him like his mother did when he was young. If I do, I wonder if that makes him sad, if it makes him miss her.